


Flipped Around

by Pteropoda (SilentP)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: -Ish, Dom Prowl, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Predicament Bondage, Sex Toys, Sub Jazz, Unusual Sex Position
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 19:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5509700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentP/pseuds/Pteropoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanging out with Prowl to interface is a regular part of Jazz's life, but it's never been quite so literal before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flipped Around

**Author's Note:**

> Concept: Jazz is flexible, and really good at holding awkward or uncomfortable positions for long periods of time. 
> 
> Result: Jazz needs to have sex while hanging upside down, apparently? I wish I had any more explanation than that.

“You aren’t feeling too much strain?”

Jazz lifted his helm to look _up_ the length of his frame. It was hard to see Prowl’s face while hanging down like this with his knees hooked over a bar and his helm dangling barely an arm’s length above the ground, but not all of Prowl was out of reach. He made a playful grab for Prowl’s thighs, only to have his hands swatted away.

“Jazz,” Prowl said, hands on his hips. “That isn’t an answer.”

“Mmm, I love it when you use that voice,” Jazz purred. Tensing his frame, Jazz grabbed the bar and swung until he was perched on top of it, now looking down at Prowl. “I’m fine,” he said with a grin. “And if I ain’t feeling it by the end of this, I’m holding it against you.”

Prowl had gone all-out, as usual. He’d managed to get one of the gymnastics bars from the training room. It was set in the middle of Prowl’s quarters, away from any walls that Jazz might have used to brace against, and he’d taken a section of padding to place below it. Not that Jazz expected he’d fall, but Prowl liked to be prepared.

“Sass again,” Prowl murmured, but he tugged Jazz’s helm down for a kiss, and Jazz leaned down eagerly for it. “We’ll have to do something about that,” Prowl said when he stepped away. “Now, are you ready to stop fooling around, or am I going to have to handcuff you to the bar?”

It sounded interesting, and Jazz filed it away for later, but Jazz wanted to keep his hands free to react this first time, just in case he fell, so he made a show of tucking his hands beneath his thighs. “I’ll be good.”

“We’ll see about that,” Prowl said dryly, and tapped Jazz’s bumper. “Get in position.”

Jazz curled his legs and swung himself down, until his head was hanging and he could let his arms drop. He couldn’t move too much or he would start swinging, and his helm would start spinning after a while, but this wasn’t the most strenuous position Prowl had ever put him in. Maybe if this time went well, Prowl would find some new spin on it to test Jazz’s flexibility even more.

His engine kicked up a notch at the thought.

“Excited already?” Prowl said. Jazz started to look up, but Prowl knelt in front of him, and Jazz only got a brief glimpse of him moving before before his vision went dark.

Jazz’s flinch nearly set him swinging, but his automatic grab for whatever had covered his optics found him fumbling over something in the way. Prowl’s arms, he realized, and grabbed them to steady himself.

“Primus, Prowl, _warn_ a mech,” he groaned. Letting go of Prowl’s arms was more difficult than he thought. He knew that the ground wasn’t far below him, and that falling wouldn’t cause him any real damage, but with his optics covered he couldn’t check. Being left to hang freely in space was more disconcerting than he expected. His fans quickened as his engine revved.

He heard the deep rumble of Prowl’s chuckle as the mech extracted his hands, then the tap of pedes on the floor moving away from him. “You truly are looking forward to this, if you’re so distracted that you don’t notice me right in front of you,” Prowl said. “All right. We’ll get started, since you’re so impatient.”

Jazz bit his lip, his frame already heating. He shifted his legs, trying to steady himself before Prowl gave him the first order.

“Open this,” Prowl said. A sharp tap to his interface panel made it clear what Prowl meant, and Jazz let the cover snap aside without hesitation.

He could feel his valve already growing wet, but as the seconds dragged on Jazz felt nothing touching anywhere near his valve. With a huff, he twisted, lifting his head and tensing his stomach to curl up and grab for the bar again. “Prowl?”

“Stop that,” Prowl said sternly. He’d moved, Jazz realized, twisting his head. He was somewhere behind Jazz now, on the far side of the room. “What an impatient little thing you are. I didn’t tell you to move.”

Another pulse of heat through his frame had Jazz flushing, and he licked his suddenly dry lips as he lowered himself down again to hang freely. “Sorry, sir.”

“Well, at least you do follow orders quickly when I give them,” Prowl said. There was the sound of footsteps, but hanging upside down, it was hard for Jazz to place them. It was only when he felt something press against his backstruts that he realized just how close Prowl had been.

It was Prowl’s body, his knees about the level of Jazz’s helm, his pelvic plating at the small of Jazz’s back. With the way his frame was naturally arched, Jazz wasn’t actually in contact with the plating there, and he whined at the thought that Prowl’s spike could be out but he wouldn’t feel it.

But Prowl wasn’t concerned with Jazz’s stilted attempts to press them closer together. He was doing something with the bar holding Jazz up, he realized, feeling the faint vibrations as Prowl… wrapped something around it?

Jazz was startled out of his wondering by the brush of something touching his valve. If Prowl hadn’t been at his back, he might even have started slipping.

“So distracted,” Prowl chuckled. “This should bring your focus back where it belongs. Don’t fall.” The reminder was accompanied by a quick tap to his ankle joint.

Jazz swallowed heavily and adjusted his legs as best he could without curling up and grabbing onto the bar. Only a few moments later, Prowl caught his attention again with a strong tap against his thigh.

“Now that you’re ready, it’s time to begin.”

Prowl stepped back, but Jazz didn’t have time to miss the warmth against his back when the gentle contact to his valve turned into a rush of sensation.

Jazz yelped, hips jerking, and the feeling disappeared, to buzz against his thigh. A vibrator, Jazz realized, only he’d dislodged it from resting against his valve, and it was buzzing teasingly against his plating instead.

He heard Prowl sigh. “And here I thought you had finally decided to focus,” he said.

Jazz whined, rocking his hips in a desperate attempt to get the vibrator back in the right place. “Prowl,” he groaned, rocking. “Come _on_.”

“You had such respect for me only a minute ago,” Prowl said. His voice was moving about the room, but no closer to him, and Jazz desperately turned his head to try and follow his path. “Maybe if you remembered your manners, I would be more inclined to help.”

Jazz actually bit his tongue this time as the vibrator managed to fetch up against a cluster of sensors in his hip. None of his movements were doing anything to force the vibrator where he wanted it, and he was certain Prowl would punish him if he tried to use his hands.

So if he wanted to feel anything more than teasing, he would have to appeal to Prowl. He let his head hang. “Sir,” he gasped. “I’m sorry, I’ll do better, please help me.”

He heard Prowl make a pleased sound behind him. “You did ask politely,” Prowl said. “And you didn’t use your hands even though I didn’t give you a specific order not to. That deserves a reward.”

And finally, _finally_ , he heard Prowl moving closer. This time, he managed not to flinch when Prowl’s hand brushed his hip.

“Good,” Prowl said, and Jazz felt more warmth blossom through him at the praise. “Now, you won’t flinch again when I replace this, will you?”

“No, sir,” Jazz promised fervently. He bit his lip again and tensed, even though he felt hyperaware of every touch of air to his valve and every single sound Prowl’s frame made. The buzz of the vibrator stopped, and Jazz had a few brief moments of anguished anticipation before he felt the cool rubbery surface sliding against his valve, then pressing inside.

When he made a brief, questioning sound, Prowl chuckled. “We can’t have you losing it again, now can we?” Prowl said.

Any answer Jazz might have given was lost in a groan when the vibrator switched on.

The setting was teasingly light, but it pressed just right against his nodes. Jazz clenched his hands in a desperate attempt not to roll his hips. In his valve was a little more secure than against his frontal node, but it wouldn’t take much to dislodge it.

So he hung in place, jaw clenched and abdomen tight, struggling not to rock into the vibration. It was hard. His outer node was neglected and throbbing, and he wanted so badly to press something against it. The vibrator, his fingers, _anything._

The vibrations jumped in intensity. Jazz shrieked. Every cable in his frame went taut, and he curled upward before gravity pulled him down again. Each movement had the vibrator shifting in his valve, and it had Jazz shuddering even as he fought vainly to keep still. He scrabbled at the plating of his thighs and dug his fingers into his seams. He was so close to overloading, but Prowl didn’t want him to touch.

And Prowl, he realized with a gut-wrenching jolt, could switch off that vibrator at any time.

Where was Prowl? Jazz couldn’t remember hearing where his footsteps had gone in the room. He’d been too distracted by the vibrator. He tried to angle his head to listen, but the roar of his fans and the buzz of the device in his valve made that difficult, and every little motion made his head spin.

“Prowl, sir,” he moaned. “Oh, please don’t stop. Please don’t turn it off, I’m so close, I need t-to, I need, just a little more,”

He was babbling, he realized, but Prowl wasn’t responding, and he couldn’t hear him anywhere, still—

Someone touched his hands.

“Lift your helm,” Prowl ordered. Jazz sobbed, but did. Prowl uncurled his fingers from his thighs and guided his hands until they wrapped around the bar. “Are you steady, Jazz?”

“Yes!” Jazz cried. His arms were shaking. His whole frame was shaking. The vibrator was pressed deeper into his valve but his node was still untouched.

Prowl murmured something that Jazz couldn’t hear, and then there was pressure against his node and the world spun around him.

He probably shrieked. He definitely writhed, and that only made the world spin more, but bliss seemed to crackle through his frame.

It took a while for the last tingles of overload to fade away. Someone was stroking his helm, he realized eventually. He wasn’t hanging upside down, either. He’d been moved so that he was lying on something soft.

“Prowl?” he hummed, and the hand on his helm stilled.

He felt something click near his faceplates and suddenly his optics were working again, and he was staring up at Prowl. His helm must be in Prowl’s lap, then. Jazz reached up so that he could pull Prowl down into a kiss.

Prowl indulged him for a little while, then pulled away, even though one hand remained to play over Jazz’s helm. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Jazz lay still as he considered. With the overload fading, the ache in his core was beginning to be more prominent, the strain of holding himself up for so long, but it was a good kind of ache, like the kind he felt after a good race. “Mmm, you did me good, Prowler.”

Prowl smiled and resumed the petting. “You were very revved up,” he observed. “I take it that you’re hoping for a repeat sometime soon?”

“Yes,” Jazz said emphatically. He turned his helm to press his horns into Prowl’s hand. “Let’s spice it up a bit, too. I can handle it.”

“You’re sure?” Prowl asked. “You nearly fell when you overloaded, this time.”

“I got all worked up thinking about what you would do to me next time,” Jazz said. “It won’t be so quick next time.”

“We’ll see about that,” Prowl said. “But very well. I’ll make arrangements.”

“Good,” Jazz said. He arched his frame into a stretch and finally lifted his helm from Prowl’s lap. “Maybe walk a bit louder, though,” he said. “I kinda freaked out when I lost track of ya.”

“Noted,” Prowl said. “I intend to keep close next time, anyway. I’d rather not have you falling.”

“You gonna train me out of it?” Jazz asked.

“Hmm, no.” Prowl said, smiling in faint amusement. “I rather enjoy the way you lose yourself in pleasure. Of course, that simply means I’ll have to find a better way to secure you.”

“Bring it on,” Jazz purred.


End file.
